Unicorns are Assholes and Other Tales
by Antigone Rex
Summary: FMA Fantasy AU. A series of one-shots, mainly focused on our beloved, irrepressible Colonel. Also featuring a ridiculous amount of Royai. A little experiment with the wonderful mebh.
1. Damsel in Distress? Unlikely!

Wait! Don't be scared. I know what you're thinking: "FMA Fantasy AU, Antigone? No thank you."

I was a skeptic at first, too. But **m****ebh** can be very persuasive - she's the one that came up with this crazy, _wonderful_ idea. She showed me the error of my ways. Go on, give it a try. Read away.

And! We'd appreciate reviews and comments. There is a lot more where this came from...

-o-o-o-

Riza peered down from the parapet, fingers curled on the stony ledge. She sucked a breath between her teeth. The height was dizzying - far too high for the old bedsheets-made-into-rope trick. It served her right, she supposed. That ogre looked unsavory from the start. She should have known he just wanted her for her... well... _assets_.

It all seemed quite harmless at first. Mustang's team was sent to investigate a series of highway robberies in the area surrounding Grafton Hill. They managed to track down a local group of thugs holed up in a series of caves that overlooked the road. They _planned_ to flush out the thieves - a simple trick they used dozens of times in the past. Unfortunately, they ran into a bit of a snag.

A large ogre guarded the back entrance.

It was an uncommon sight to see one in cahoots with humans. Ogres were as a rule solitary creatures (their odor made it a necessity). The thieves must have bribed it with something. Ogres weren't the brightest of the enchanted creature ensemble, and the promise of a few shiny baubles was usually all it took to convince one to stand menacingly at a doorway. Ususally, they completely forgot about the deal and shambled away. Even Roy was surprised the thieves would choose such a distractible and untrustworthy guard. Unfortunately for the team, this one seemed more dedicated to its job than most. After nearly an hour of waiting, they all agreed they had to deal with the creature in order to move on with their work.

Riza was confident she could take the oaf. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen - or fought - before. She motioned the others away so they could take up their positions at the front of the cave. Mustang sent her a smug grin before he disappeared into the trees, happy to let her deal with the beast (and the inevitable stench). Ogres smelled bad enough on the outside, but their blood was enough to peel paint from walls.

It started out fine. Riza stole up behind the ogre, easily positioning herself on a cliff above, ready for a killing blow. Unfortunately, she didn't see the patch of mud until it was too late. Her foot slipped. It wouldn't have been a problem but for the mild expletive that escaped before she managed to regain her balance. Ogres might be stupid, but their ears were cunning as daggers. Before she knew it, Riza was enveloped in meaty hands and a meatier odor. The ogre swung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and tromped off to his towery hideaway, baubles be damned.

And now here she was, swathed in silk, held hostage in a tower. It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the corset. For the life of her, she didn't quite remember how the oaf managed to lace up the delicate backing. She remembered the sound of his hot, hasty breaths and the feel of rough fingers against her neck. She shuddered. How the hell did this happen? She swore she would never dress this way; that she would never be... _that _woman. Mustang was going to have a field day with this one.

Speaking of...

She heard a loud commotion from the hall outside: the sounds of clashing armor and the low, guttural grunts of creatures dying at the end of a sword. It was him. Mustang. She knew he'd come for her. Hawkeye's heart fluttered. Like a damsel. In dist - _Damn_.

The fight intensified and keening screams rose from the din. Then silence. It was still for a long minute before she heard a loud scraping sound, then a low thud. The door shuddered. A pause, then the door shook again. On the third blow, it fell open, along with her commanding officer. Mustang tumbled to on the floor, completely limp, without raising a hand to brace himself. He let out a tiny grunt as his face met tile.

"My hero..." Riza muttered sarcastically. She reached down to grip her commander under the armpits and heave him from the doorstep.

Roy moaned and his eyes fluttered open. He blinked for a long time, seemingly confused by Riza's rather updone appearance. "L- Lieutenant?" His eyes twinkled mischievously and a small smirk teased at the edge of his bloodied lips.

"Not. A. Word." she clipped. She ripped off a silken sleeve to wrap it around a nasty scalp wound that dripped blood down his forehead. "Concussion," she muttered. "Great. As if you aren't hard enough to deal with as it is."

Mustang whimpered as Riza tightened the makeshift bandage around his head. "You- you..." he slurred. "You're a _woman_, Hawkeye."

"Yes, sir." Riza grunted slightly as she draped his arm over her shoulder and lugged him to his feet.

"But," he frowned, befuddled. "You're not _usually _a woman."

Riza resisted the urge to let her commanding officer drop to the floor. Her womanhood (or apparent lack thereof) was a topic for another time. She wrapped her arm about his waist and began to half walk, half drag Roy towards the door. She wasn't looking forward to the long walk down the spiraling staircase. With her luck, an ogre waited at the bottom.

Damsel in distress, her ass.

-o-o-o-

The journey was far worse than she imagined. It turned out the tower housed much more than just an ogre. Riza dealt with the harpies easily enough, but the witch on the sixth level gave her a bit of trouble. It would have been a simple job had it not been for the Colonel, who insisted she "needed his help." Unfortunately, his doubled vision made it a bit impossible.

"Look out, Hawkeye!" he shouted, swinging his sword wildly in all directions (except the right one). "There are two of them!"

Riza sighed as she ducked under her commander's weapon (again). "Stay out of the way, Sir!" she said (again). He was just slowing her down. She stepped to the side to deftly sweep Mustang's feet out from under him. It was better this way. She ignored his cry of protest as he crashed to the floor. Riza turned and leveled her sword at her opponent.

"I've got you now, my pretty!" the witch cackled.

Riza gaped at the hag for a moment. "Really? Did you really just... _really_?" Sometimes she hated this world and all its prosaisms. It grew tiresome after a while. With a hearty sigh she circled the witch's cauldron, sword low in her hands.

The hag, clearly unaccustomed to such fearlessness, let out a little shriek and fled to a table laden with potions. "Stay back!" She lifted a blue bottle in one hand. "Stay back or I'll -"

Riza didn't hear the rest of what the old woman had to say. She was far too busy parting the witch from her head. The thing tumbled off her neck and fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Riza wiped her blade on the witch's body with a small, disgusted frown before she turned back to the Colonel.

"Amazing, Hawkeye," Musang mumbled as she helped him stand again. "You got _both_ of them at _one time._"

"Yes Sir."

Mustang had grown fairly delirious by the time they reached the ground floor. Hawkeye was beginning to have difficulty handling him; he kept reaching out for things that weren't there, and every time she stepped away to deal with a new foe, he disappeared. It had become increasingly hard to find him. Most recently (after having slayed a few larger-than-natural rats), she discovered him sitting happily next to a very dead, very _rotten_ goblin corpse.

"We were having tea, Hawkeye," he protested as she pulled him away (again). "Gary and I were having tea."

"You can have tea with Gary later, Sir."

In the end, she was right. The ogre was indeed waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. And he was _not _happy. He took one look at Riza's now-ruined gown and let out a low, rumbling growl that loosed tiles from the floor.

"Grraawwwrrrr," said the ogre (which Riza took to mean "You're not going anywhere" …or something to that extent).

Riza sighed (again). She shuffled over to the nearby wall, Mustang in tow. "Stay here," she said, gently easing her commanding officer off her shoulder and propping him against the stones. He grasped her arm before she could step away.

"I can help you," he mumbled. "You need my help."

"No, Sir. I really don't." She carefully plucked his fingers off her arm, one by one.

Roy frowned. "I'm pretty sure you do, Hawkeye." He reached to his side to grab his sword. His hand missed three times before he managed to take hold of the hilt. He drew it forth and grinned. "Ha!" The blade tip dipped and wove unsteadily.

Riza shook her head. She drew her own weapon and tapped the back of his knees with the flat of her blade. Mustang fell the the floor with a very indignant grunt. "Stay," she said, before turning back to the ogre.

"Mwwra rwa rwa rwaaaaa," said the ogre. Riza could swear the creature was laughing. It raised its crudgel above its head and waved it threateningly. "Wwaant."

Riza was no stranger to combat. She knew how to deal with opponents much larger than herself. It was all about knowing their weaknesses. Ogres, she knew, had one soft spot. Unfortunately it would take some ingenuity (and a bit of luck) to reach it: She needed to get to its head. Quite the feat, considering the thing stood at least twelve feet off the ground. She would have to lure it down to her level. And she knew just how to do it. She only wished it didn't have to come to this.

She would have to be... _that_ woman. Demure. Enchanting. A fucking damsel in distress.

Riza smoothly tucked her sword behind her back and blinked up at the ogre in what she hoped was a coy kind of way. The ogre paused, seemingly confused by the sudden change in character.

"I'm sorry," Riza said in the highest, wispiest voice she could manage, "I never noticed how... _handsome_ you were before."

"WHAT?!" Mustang shouted.

Riza sent him a severe look before smiling back at the ogre. _Shut up,_ she thought. _Shut up shut up shut up. _She couldn't afford the Colonel's interference now. She wouldn't be able to maintain this facade for long. Fortunately, it seemed to be working. A stupid grin spread on the ogre's face and he lumbered forward a few steps. Riza fought back the urge to vomit as the creature's odor washed over her.

_Come on_, Riza thought as she shifted from foot to slippered foot. _Come on, you brute._

The ogre hunched lower, staring at her hungrily with its tiny, watery eyes. Riza's grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, biding her time. It crouched even lower, chest nearly brushing its knees. He was almost in range when something stepped in its path: A very wobbly, very concussed Colonel.

"Back!" he said, aiming his weapon just over the ogre's shoulder. Clearly he was still seeing double.

The ogre let out a whining grumble and made squeezing motions in the general direction of Hawkeye's breasts.

Mustang frowned. "No," he slurred. "Mine."

"Sir...!"

"Stay back, Hawkeye! I can handle this."

Riza slapped a hand to her forhead and rubbed her eyes. "No Sir. I really don't think you can."

"I can, Hawkeye. Just watch." Mustang coughed as the ogre took another step closer, its stench growing stronger by the second.

"Sir, you just tried to have tea with a dead goblin!"

Mustang sniffed. "Gary..." he said wistfully. His sword dropped half a foot.

The ogre saw its opportunity. It lunged toward Roy, growling through a set of broken, yellowed teeth. The beast was upon the Colonel in less than a heartbeat.

"Sir!" Hawkeye shrieked. She started forward, knowing she was too far away to do anything to prevent his almost certain demise. Yet by some twist of fate (or perhaps more accurately, luck), a spell of dizziness seemed to overtake the Colonel. He swayed on his feet and toppled on to the pavement. The ogre's fingers sailed over his head, just missing him by a mere hairsbreadth.

The beast roared and drew forth a huge club it had strapped to its back. The weapon was hewn from an ancient gnarled oak, thick as a man and hard as stone. The ogre swung the club as though it weighed nothing, aiming directly at the two soldiers. Riza gasped and stumbled backwards. Her foot caught on her long skirt; she only just managed to leap out of the way as the weapon struck from above. The ground shook beneath her feet and she stumbled to the floor.

For a long moment, all she could hear was a dull ringing in her ears and the sound of falling rubble. Riza pushed herself up on her hands, coughing on dust stirred up by the massive concussion. "Sir," she choked. "Are you alright?" She could hardly see through the clouds of dust that drifted through the room. Riza stumbled to her feet. "Sir?"

The was a low moan from somewhere to her left, and the ogre let out a rumbling laugh. Riza looked up to see the club embedded in the ground where she stood mere seconds before. Mustang was nowhere in sight.

"Colonel!" she called, waving her hand in front of her face to clear away the dust. The clouds parted and her heart nearly stopped at what she saw.

The ogre stood over Mustang, one foot poised to crush him. Her commander lay utterly still on the ground, staring up at the brute with darkening eyes. Mustang's entire body was stiff, his fingers slowly coiling into claws. He bore his teeth at the ogre - expression suddenly more animal than man. The Colonel snarled, long and low.

"Sir!" she shouted. She didn't have much time. Something terrible was going to happen if she didn't act now. Riza looked around, desperate for something - _anything_ - to stop her commander from being crushed. Her eyes fell on the giant club, still sticking up from the ground. It angled up like a path, ending just in line with the ogre's shoulder. "Better than nothing," she muttered. She hiked up her skirts and broke into a sprint.

The wood sounded hollow beneath her slippered feet as she dashed up the surface of the club. She felt the thing shift under her weight as she neared the end, and for a heart-stopping moment was afraid it might topple. But she managed to leap off the handle, skirts flying about her as she flew through the air. She landed on top of the ogre's shoulder. The brute only just turned its head before her sword was in her hand.

"Goodbye," she muttered before plunging her blade into the ogre's eye. The oaf let out a surprisingly high-pitched scream. Riza grunted and pushed it further - all the way to the hilt. Black blood gushed over her hands and she nearly choked as the stench washed over her. The ogre cried out and flailed, stumbling back and nearly knocking Riza from her perch. She clung tightly to her sword, twisting it cruelly into his eye socket with all her might.

The ogre convulsed and Riza's hands slipped on her blood-coated sword. She quickly lost her footing and tumbled off its shoulder, landing on the pavement with a loud grunt. Riza just managed to glance up as the ogre fell backward into a pile of rubble. The beast spasmed, stones shifting and groaning under his giant bulk. It was a long time before it finally lay still.

Riza was panting hard by the time she reached Mustang's side. "Sir!" she gasped. She was relieved to see him let out a long moan and open his eyes.

Mustang reached up to cover his nose. "What is that _smell_?"

"It's me, Sir," she said, holding out one stained hand. "Ogre blood."

Mustang blinked. "My head hurts," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm sure it does."

Mustang reached up to touch the silk sleeve that still wrapped his head. His fingers came away bloody. He looked surprised. "How'd I get _this_?"

Riza shook her head. "You don't remember?"

Roy frowned. "I remember the ogre... he was about to... squash me under his... foot..."

Riza nodded. "You nearly transformed."

"Shhh!" he said, hastily reaching up to her face. He probably meant to cover her mouth to quiet her, but he missed completely and his palm ended up hitting the end of her nose. "Shhh. They'll _hear_."

Frowning, Riza glanced around. The courtyard was empty (sans one ogre corpse). "It's okay, Sir. We're the only ones here."

"No, Hawkeye," Mustang said, expression utterly serious. The effect was only somewhat ruined by his slightly crossed eyes. "_Them_. My secret. They don't know the truth about me yet."

"Sir," she said, carefully easing his hand down from her face. "You're delirious. You're not making sense. There's no one here besides you and me."

Roy escaped her grasp and reached for her again, this time catching hold of the front of her dress. "No, Hawkeye. _Listen _to me. They're always here, watching us. We just never _see _them."

Riza sighed and reached up to pry his fingers from her collar. "Who's watching us, Sir?"

"The readers," Mustang whispered before his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The Colonel's hands slid from Hawkeye's dress and he slumped into unconsciousness.

"Great," she muttered. "Just wonderful." There was no chance of him walking from this place now. She puffed out a long breath, sizing up her commander with an appraising eye. There was really no choice on the matter. She'd have to carry him, armor and all.

As she reached down to sling her commander's arm around her neck and heft him over her shoulders, Riza vaguely wondered how she could ever be mistaken for a damsel, let alone one in distress.

-o-o-o-

"Agh! Hawkeye!" Mustang whined, pulling away from her as she dabbed his wound with a damp cloth. "Be more careful!"

"It's not that bad," she murmured, though her hands were more gentle when she next pressed her cloth against the gash. "Stop being such a baby."

"I am _not_."

Riza hid a smile. She was back in her usual garb - light leather armor over a homespun tunic - clothes she typically wore when she was off duty, though her hair still hung loose about her shoulders. It had taken a lengthy bath and a homemade concoction of herbs to wash the ogre stench out. She reached down to rinse the cloth again; the water was already stained red.

"You were lucky," she said after a long pause. "That club just missed you."

"I was fine. I had a handle on things the entire time. Have a little faith."

Riza sighed and fixed him with one of her long-suffering looks. She twisted the rag in her hands; pink water dribbled between her fingers. "You make it so difficult sometimes. I was..." she stopped and bit her lip.

"Ha!" He grinned. "I can't believe it! Were you... _worried_, Hawkeye?"

"No." She kept her eyes trained on the bowl at her side.

"You were. Admit it."

She tipped her head forward so her hair hid her face, just as she did when she was a child. "It was close, is all." She took the moment of silence to gather herself, and when she finally turned to press the cloth against his head again, her expression was cool and impassive. "You made it exceedingly difficult for me today, Sir," she said crisply.

Mustang's smile widened. "I'm good at that," he said.

"You are. You really are," she sighed. She reached up with her other hand to push his fringe out of the way; she frowned when she saw the wound went much further back than she thought.

Roy' s hand darted out to take hold of her wrist. Riza nearly gasped; sometimes he could be unnervingly fast. Roy huffed. "I'm _fine_ Hawkeye. You know I heal quickly."

"I know." Riza made to pull away, but Roy's hand tightened. Leaning over him as she was, she suddenly realized how close they were. She could feel Roy's breath brush over her collarbone, the feel of his hip against hers. Riza swallowed and leaned back to rewet the rag.

Roy released her hand with a sigh. "Hawkeye."

"Mmm?" She dabbed the cloth at the wound, avoiding his eyes.

"I really did like that dress."

Riza snorted. "Very funny, Sir." Yet a smile touched the edge of her lips and could feel the briefest flutter in her chest. She turned away to stoke the fire.

_Damsel in distress?_ she thought wryly. _Unlikely. But damsel?_ She dared a glance over her shoulder at the man who gave her so many troubles in so many ways. She felt her heart flutter again. _Perhaps sometimes._

-o-o-o-

Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Fairy Wood

A little glimpse into Roy's misspent youth: fantasy-style! Takes quite the turn...

* * *

He stole through the night, bare feet whispering over cool grass. It was the summer solstice, and the air was thick with magic. The breeze carried the scent of newly-turned earth. Crickets chirped a nighttime symphony, only quieting as he passed. In the valley below he could see the soundless, ebbing light of fireflies. They dotted the grassy plain like so many stars.

Something irresistibly secret called him to this place. It woke him in the night: a deep and ancient voice that called him outside. He felt drawn - compelled - as though an invisible string pulled him from a place just behind his navel. His feet moved without a thought, his mind too sleepy and magic-drugged to know where or why. Before he realized, he'd slipped into the forest near the house - a thick, wild wood, rumored to be present since the long-ago Age of Dragons.

Being a rather daring and irreverent boy, Roy had been in the forest many times. It was an untamed place, with low-hanging branches that pulled at one's clothes. Tangled underbrush caught and tripped those that traveled too deep. Yet tonight Roy walked between the trunks with ease. The trees seemed to part before them, as though they pulled up their roots and moved aside to let him pass. Roy could feel the eyes of nighttime creatures watch him from between the branches, bright and old as time.

He stopped at the edge of a glen. _How strange_... he thought he knew these woods well, but he'd never seen this place before. The clearing was a complete circle: not one branch or root marred its perfect roundness. Moonlight flooded the space, making every blade of grass stand out - black on moonlit white. Something stood at its very center.

"Riza?" Roy whispered. Sure enough, she stood with her back to him, in the same tartan dress she'd worn earlier that day. Though he'd known her for years now, Master's daughter still a mystery to him. She often kept to herself, though she'd occasionally flash a warm smile or sidelong glance at Roy when she thought he wasn't looking. Riza was a quiet girl, not one to go traipsing off into the woods alone. It was unusual for her to be out so late. Something wasn't right.

Roy glanced up to see the Carnal Star, furious, amber, and burning right overhead. He didn't like this. It reeked of magic. Perhaps Riza couldn't sense it. Master did say she had no talent for the arcane. Roy had to warn her. He started toward Riza with every intention of bringing her back to the house, but he stopped when something blinked into life at the other end of the clearing.

The thing glowed a briliant cerulean. It flickered at the treeline and bobbed up and down slowly for a moment before it began to drift toward Riza. It came to float just in front of her, hovering at the level of her waist. After a time, Roy could make out tiny, fluttering wings.

"Fairy," Roy murmured, crouching low behind a bush. "Damn."

Fairies were notoriously troublesome creatures. They were best known for pulling little pranks: Loosing a horse's girth just as the rider was about to mount, replacing ale with goat piss, sketching on camper's faces while they slept. Normally, what they did was harmless at best and annoying at worst. But blue faries... blue fairies were a completely different breed. They were well-known for enchanting their victims.

"Riza!" Roy whispered as loud as he dared. "Riza!"

Riza didn't seem to hear. Instead she lifted her hands, outstretched and cupped before her. The fairy landed on them. It danced over her palms, twig-thin legs flashing unnaturally blue. Roy couldn't make out its face, but he knew it was smiling a wicked, elfin smile. The little creature reached into the pouch that hung off its tiny hip. It let out a squeaking laugh before it threw a handful of iridescent dust in Riza's face. The girl sneezed delicately.

"Shit," Roy said. Pixie dust. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse. Master would never forgive him if Roy let her fall under an enchantment. Worse, the stuff took weeks to wear off.

The fairy laughed again. It flashed - blue! blue! - and took flight once more, disappearing into the trees, leaving a bright trail in its wake. Riza's hands dropped to her sides, but she did not move from where she stood at the center of the clearing.

Roy ran his eyes over the edge of the woods before he dared step out of the concealing darkness. "Riza?" he called. He was not sure what kind of spell the fairly laid on his master's daughter, but he decided to air on the side of caution. "Riza...?"

She turned to face him. Roy took an involuntary step back. Riza was smiling, but it didn't seem to fit her face. It was something wild and fearless - a fae smile that was not her own. She looked at Roy from beneath her lashes, coy and suddenly very, very beautiful.

Roy could not deny he'd noticed a change in her over the past few months. Gone was the sprightly girl with the whip-thin legs, perfect for a quick dash after a few filched carrots from the Tanner farm. Now she was softer, more rounded. He hadn't noticed it until one morning when he came down for breakfast. Riza was standing at the sink, working at the dishes, and Roy found his eyes drawn to Riza's feet. They were bare - the soles thick and tough after another long season without shoes. But it was what was above them that drew Roy's attention.

He'd never noticed ankles before, but it struck him at that moment that Riza's were rather pretty. They were surprisingly delicate. And now that he'd noticed that detail, Roy couldn't help but see other things that were rather pretty about her. The curve of her hip as she swayed from foot to foot. Her slim waistline. How her voice seemed richer as she hummed at her work. She was transforming and he hadn't even noticed.

And now here they stood, alone in a clearing bathed with moonlight. One hardly daring to breathe, the other sloe-eyed and full of magic. Roy stood, wordless, as Riza slinked toward him like a cat nearing its prey. Her mouth curved into a coy grin.

"Riza," Roy sputtered. "Listen to me. You've been enchanted..."

She didn't seem to hear. Instead she reached up and with infinitesimal slowness, began to undo the back of her tartan dress.

"Wha -?" Roy gasped. "Stop!" Master was going to kill him.

Riza reached the last, topmost button. It came undone with a soft pop. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she shed the garment, and it fell in a pool at her feet. Riza's smile widened, wild and eager.

"Ah!" Roy gasped and sat up. It took him a moment to recognize where he was: in his tiny bedroom at the end of the hall. Sunlight streamed through an open window and birds chirped outside. "A dream," he moaned, dropping his head into his hands.

It was then that he noticed an increasingly familiar tug just above his thighs. The bed sheets had a telling peak where there was none before.

"Oh man," Roy grunted. "Not again." He glared at the offending appendage. "Why do you keep doing this?"

He nearly squealed when Riza's voice trailed from downstairs. "Breakfast!"

"I- In a minute!" Roy called back.

Damn those fairy dreams.

* * *

Tee.


	3. Unicorns are Assholes

Another story from Roy's youth. Poor chap.

* * *

It didn't take Roy long to decide: Unicorns are assholes.

Sure, the beasts were deservedly renowned for their beauty. Not even the most well-bred horses could rival their grace. Their long manes floated like seafoam and their coats shone like pearls. The high arch of their necks bespoke of something both quietly regal and decidedly proud. And the delicate spiral of their horns took the breath of even the most road-worn warriors.

But they were assholes. Period.

Roy first encountered one while still a cadet at Central Academy. He was on leave - his first in weeks. In a fit of restless energy (and admittedly, some pent-up aggression), he decided to travel to one of the villages that skirted the Capital. He'd been told one of the local taverns featured fine wine and even finer entertainment. And after months spent buried in both military and alchemy books, he could use a little... entertainment.

He made the journey on foot, having only an ancient dray horse at his disposal. The animal was a gift from his foster mother, who insisted Roy needed _something_ to ride. In truth, Roy avoided the shabby steed like the plague (a real threat in those days). The nag drew sidelong looks and jeering smirks wherever Roy rode; she made the most disturbing wheezing sounds with even the slightest exertion. Frankly, it was embarrassing. So on foot he went.

Roy never truly appreciated the distance between the village and the barracks where he lived. The sun was nearly hidden by the trees by the time he exited the defensive wall. Peering speculatively at his map, he saw the path curved around a dense wood before it reached the village. As an astute student of strategy, Roy realized the fastest route would be to cut through the trees rather than take the much longer way 'round. He didn't hesitate. He stepped off the path, boots crunching in the lush underbrush, a proud smile playing at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he surprised himself with his own ingenuity.

Little did he know, the forest was enchanted.

It was well past dusk when Roy began to fear he was lost. He was just about to turn 'round when he spotted something bright through the darkening wood. It flitted in and out of sight: at times just flashing in his periphery, at others appearing just after he blinked. Thinking he perhaps saw the lights of the village filtering through the trees, Roy followed it. The forest grew more dense as he neared; he had to push through a thick underbrush before he spotted his query.

It was a unicorn. It pawed at the ground with cloven hooves, snorting through the most perfect, delicate nose. As if on cue, the clouds parted and moonlight flooded the clearing where it stood. The beams made the animal practically glow. Roy's breath caught - he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. And in an instant he resolved to catch it. He was tired of riding that old nag. Someone the likes of Roy Mustang deserved something proud and majestic as his steed, and now he knew _only_ a unicorn would do. Roy crouched lower in the underbrush, considering his next move. His hand strayed to a length of rope he kept lashed to his pack.

Then the unicorn spoke.

"Boy," it said, its voice like water spilling over glass. "Boy."

Roy gasped. How had the creature known he was there? He'd been found. It was too late to try to steal up on the unicorn now. He hid the rope behind his back and stood, heart beating a syncopated tattoo in his chest. The unicorn stared back with wise, ancient eyes. Roy yearned to touch its velvety fur.

"Don't you speak, Boy?" the unicorn said.

Roy shifted and tried to swallow through his suddenly dry throat. His fingers twisted on the rope. It seemed wrong to bind such a beautiful creature.

The unicorn pawed the ground and snorted. The sound came out half-spoken. For a brief moment, it sounded as though it muttered the word "dolt."

_But surely not_, Roy reassured himself. _A being so wondrous would never say something so... indelicate._ It probably meant 'colt,' which of course would just be another term for 'boy' in unicorn tongue. He must have misheard.

"I- I speak." Roy made a lame little wave. "Hello."

"Clearly," said the unicorn. "What are you doing in these woods, boy?"

"I was just... walking." Roy tucked the rope more firmly behind his back.

The unicorn regarded him for a long moment. Its tail swished thoughtfully. "Are you planning on catching me, Boy?"

"I... no!" Roy said adamantly, but he was certain his flushed cheeks revealed the truth. How did the unicorn know? He'd heard tales of their mythical powers, but he'd never imagined them to be true.

The unicorn whickered something. It sounded like 'boron,' which of course struck Roy as odd. Why would a unicorn care about a low-abundance terrestrial element? Maybe he spent too long studying today. He must referred to his text on elements one too many times. Roy shook his head to clear it.

"Boy," the unicorn said. "Do you know the first thing about catching a unicorn?"

"I'm not trying to catch you," Roy said lamely. He surreptitiously let the rope slide out of his hands behind his back. It fell to the ground with a very suspicious plop.

The unicorn bobbed its head and neighed something Roy couldn't quite make out. Surely it wasn't 'you idiot,' as Roy initially thought. It was probably something more like 'I believe it.' Yes, that was definitely what it said.

"You do know you couldn't catch me in that state." The unicorn let out a nickering laugh. "Not like that."

Roy hesitated for only a moment before his curiosity got the better of him. "What do you mean... in this state?"

"Boy," the unicorn said. This time, Roy was pretty sure he didn't imagine the condescension in its tone. "I am a creature of nature. You must be of nature as well if you wish to approach me." The moonlight gleamed off the unicorn's suddenly cunning eyes.

"W- what do you mean?"

The unicorn neighed something. Roy frowned, perturbed. He was pretty sure nothing rhymed with 'nincompoop.' How rude.

"Your clothes," the beast said simply.

Something about this situation didn't seem right, but Roy couldn't help himself. "You're saying... I can't come near you... with my clothes on?"

The unicorn nodded. "Naturally."

Roy let out a half-hearted laugh. "You think I'd actually strip naked here? In the woods?"

"I don't think it. I know it," the unicorn said, utterly serious.

Roy meant to laugh again. He really did. But the unicorn's coat shone so beautifully under the moonlight. And its hooves looked so wonderfully dainty. And it was so, so magical. He just had to touch it.

The unicorn nodded sagely. "Yes."

It wasn't long before Roy's clothes lay in a pool at his feet. He shivered as a chill wind blew through the trees, tickling areas that were not often tickled.

"Come," said the unicorn. Its wise eyes seemed to pierce right through him. It pawed the ground and softly whinnied. It might have said 'sucker,' but Roy was too entranced to care.

Roy stumbled forward, hand outstretched to touch its enticingly soft fur. The unicorn dipped its head as he approached. Its eyes seemed brighter - perhaps even a bit mischievous. But it might have just been the way they caught the moonlight.

How wrong he was.

In the days that followed, Roy couldn't quite recall what happened next. The unicorn suddenly pranced forward, graceful and fleet as a deer. Soundless as a moonrise. Luminous as the stars. For a timeless moment, Roy stood frozen and awestruck, unable to do more than stare at the way the muscles played under its glorious fur. And suddenly - suddenly! - his clothes were flying through the air. Up. Up. Higher and higher until they caught - trapped in the branches of a nearby tree, just out of Roy's reach.

"Wha-?" Roy stuttered. He wasn't sure how, but the Unicorn had somehow maneuvered behind him.

Roy meant to turn to face the beast. To ask it why. Or perhaps to finally touch that velvet fur. He never made it, though. For suddenly he felt the cold ivory of a spiraled horn slide into his -

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!"

The last Roy saw of the maniacal unicorn was a flash of its pearly tail disappearing into the trees. A whinnying laugh filtered through the foliage like the tinkling of bells.

As Roy trudged (limped) his way back to the village, a brisk breeze playing at his rather affected nethers, he realized two things.

One: He was an idiot (just as the unicorn said).

And two: Unicorns are assholes. Period.

* * *

Hope you had fun!


	4. Mew - Part 1

Part 1 of 2 (or perhaps 3) folks. This story is dedicated to a little kitty cat. You are missed, buddy!

-o-o-o-

It was late in the afternoon; the sun hung hot and low in a cloudless sky. The air was a heavy - the thick kind of humid that filled lungs with wet and made it hard to breathe. Mustang drooped in his saddle. The heat beat down on his wool uniform mercilessly, and his sweaty clothes stuck to his neck and back. He was bone-tired and limp as a rag. He couldn't wait to reach the nearest inn, put up his feet, and quaff a well-earned ale.

It'd been one of those days. Early that morning, Havoc wandered off in search of some game. He was a gifted hunter - well-skilled in woodcraft. None of them ever expected him to stir up a nest of giant scorpions. But stir he did, and soon the entire group was surrounded by beasts bigger than their horses. Their shouts shattered the morning quiet and stingers sang through the air. The battle raged for nearly an hour before only one beast remained.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for Mustang's insistence that _he_ deal the killing blow. His pride had been irreparably damaged by the Whitebow incident over a month ago, and he was _convinced_Hawkeye fell under the enchantment because of some... lack on his part. He needed to prove himself. It was getting to be a rather troublesome trend. For the past several weeks, he plunged blindly into battle again and again as proof of his bravery - despite their insistence that he was, in fact, manly (perhaps Breda's sniggers made it less convincing) and there was nothing wrong with his... endowments (even Falman smirked at that one). Nothing they said seemed to convince him. Hawkeye even pulled him aside one night and sternly tell him to 'stop overcompensating, sir.'

Fortunately, Mustang's bravado wasn't too disastrous this time around. He thrust his sword into the scorpion's head (despite Hawkeye's command to "Wait, Sir!"). The creature let out a dying hiss and convulsed before it lay still. Mustang threw a triumphant look over his shoulder. "See, Hawkeye?" he crowed.

"Sir..."

"I told you I could."

"Colonel..."

"It was no effort at all..."

"You should really..."

"Could Whitebow do _that_?"

"Your sword, Sir."

"Wha-?" Mustang looked down to see his weapon slowly disintegrating in an acrid pool of scorpion blood. He let out a startled shout and drew the blade out, splattering the earth with acid. "Shit." Mustang looked at his weapon with dismay. Another blade, ruined. The third in two weeks.

"You broke your sword, Sir!" Fuery's voice burst through the ensuing silence. "Again!" he added, unnecessarily. Havoc and Breda giggled. Sword.

"Shut up, Fuery," Mustang muttered murderously. "Just... shut up. Shut up."

Afterwards, they stopped at a small stream to rest and water their horses. It was a peaceful place: carpeted with flowers, sunlit motes flying softly through the air. The clearing was sheltered by a pair of trees that embraced the place like a pair of arms. After the heat and chaos of battle - against pincers and stingers and armor thicker than a man's wrist - it was nice to relax on some soft, sweet grass and listen to the soothing sound of water nearby.

They should have known better. Only magic made such places. Most of the group had drifted off for a nap when something exploded out of the water with enough force to spatter Breda, who stood at the very edge of the clearing (having returned from a quick piss in the woods). Riza was first to rise, sword in hand. Even she gasped at what she saw. The stream was infested with water nymphs, which - despite everything people whisper - are not at all beautiful. They are vicious little things with tiny piranha teeth. And once they bit, they didn't let go.

It took almost an hour to remove the one that latched onto Fuery's boot (the little monster). Mustang only made the situation worse. He insisted only _he_ knew the enchantment that could successfully remove a nymph Unfortunately, his spell misfired and he ended up ("Accidentally!" he claimed) causing more harm than good. He managed to ruin Fuery's shoe and rearrange a few of his toes before he got the magic to work properly. The result was a severely diminished colonel and a surprisingly bitter Fuery. Mustang kept his mouth shut after that incident.

And so Roy didn't really plan to stop for a chat when he glimpsed a lone traveler in the distance. He was happy to pass whoever it was by without a word. He was not in the most sociable mood. His team was still siggering at him, his throat was parched, and he smelled like road dust and old sweat. He needed a bath, and he would have it. He would have that bath no matter the cost. Also, the beer.

If only he were so lucky.

The traveler approached at a meandering pace, seeming to weave this way and that along the road, never truly walking in a straight line. After a time, Mustang could make out a few more details: it was a woman - an experienced traveler, by the height and girth of her packs. Her slight figure was swathed in a oiled cloak, perfect for keeping off the summer storms. She carried something dark on her shoulder.

As they neared, Hawkeye quietly heeled her horse forward so she was positioned just behind Mustang's shoulder. It was something she always did whenever they approached a stranger on the road, and whether conscious or not, Roy found it comforting. Riza's palomino nudged at his calf with his nose, begging for the sugar cubes he always kept on hand. He kicked back at the horse. He wasn't in the mood.

The road dipped down in a little valley and twisted in a bend at its base. Soon, the traveler reappeared around a low copse of trees, and Roy could make out a few more details. The black thing perched on the woman's shoulder turned out to be a cat. It stretched its neck forward as though trying to catch a scent and its vicious little claws kneaded endlessly on its master's cloak. Strangely, it had but a single golden eye. Its singular gaze seemed to pierce Roy through.

Breda, Havoc, and Falman quieted as the woman neared. They were too road-worn to be careless now. They spread out, flanking their commander in a protective half-circle.

The woman smiled, meandering towards the group, completely unafraid. "Hello," she said pleasantly. "Nice day, isn't it?" She had a soft, lilting accent and her eyes twinkled in an all-too-knowing kind of way. The cat on her shoulder let out a little mew.

Mustang scowled. This day was a lot of things, but 'nice' wasn't one of them. "Not really," he said. He clucked to his horse. He wanted to move on as quickly as possible. It was nearing dark. "Good day to you."

"Sir," Hawkeye reproached. "Manners."

Mustang resisted the urge to let out a sigh. The Lieutenant was as predictable as the dawn, never failing to remind him of his duty. He was an Amestrian soldier - a representative of their nation - and he was obligated to behave in a certain way. Mustang grunted. Damn Hawkeye and her damn protocol. He jerked back on the reins with enough force to make his stallion (secretly, gelding) snort. He fixed the traveling woman with a weary glare. "Where are you headed, traveler?" He tried not to sound too disinterested.

The woman grinned, eyes alight with whimsy. "Funny you should ask... I am a scribe of sorts." She lifted a hand and flailed ink-covered fingers at the group as proof. The cat on her shoulder bobbed its head in agreement. "I travel the world in search of great stories. Heard any recently?"

Mustang peered at the woman with newfound interest. Her accent sounded familiar. He'd met a soldier with the same lilt many years ago. Roy's brows furrowed as he tried to remember where exactly the man said he was from. Some island off to the northwest... he couldn't quite remember the name. "Can't say I have," he replied. "Sorry, ma'am, but we really must be moving on. We need to get to the next town before dusk."

"But surely," the woman said, "Surely you have time for one story?" A laugh bubbled from between her lips and the cat on her shoulder let out a long yowl. He seemed to be amused, too. If cats can be such things.

Roy's frown deepened. There was something oddly familiar about this woman. It was more than just her accent. It was almost as though he'd met her before. As though she knew some deep, secret part him. But Roy Mustang never forgot a face, and he knew he'd never seen hers before.

"Do I... know you?" Roy said uncertainly. He glanced over at Riza. She, too, looked at the traveler with something between recognition and suspicion.

The woman threw back her head and laughed. "Do you know me? One might say so," she said. The cat echoed her, closing its single eye and letting out a series of wheezing hisses that might have been chuckles. How unsettling.

Roy huffed and planted a fist on his hip. He wasn't in the mood. The day had already been long and arduous enough as it was. "What do you mean? Who are you?"

The woman hid her smile behind one ink-spattered hand. "I told you. I write stories. I travel the world collecting them." Her eyes lit up. "Here, let me show you." She reached over her shoulder to dig into her pack.

Displaced, the cat jumped to the the ground, its single eye trained on Mustang. Roy didn't like the way it looked at him - like it was constantly sending him a mischievous wink. It seemed more human than animal. He could almost swear the cat was... mocking him. Hiding a secret it didn't want to share.

Riza - ever cautious - reached for her blade. Who knew what the strange traveler-woman hid in her pack? The Lieutenant took hold of her weapon and bore an inch of steel before Roy signaled her to stop.

"Easy, Hawkeye," he said. "Let's just see..." He meant to say more, but was too caught up in the cat's uncanny gaze.

"Sir," she muttered. "I don't think -" She stopped when the traveler let out a little "ah!" and pulled something large and heavy from her bag.

It was a book. Nothing more and also - strangely - nothing less. More of a tome, really. It was bound in red leather, cracked and stained with age. The pages were an ancient, brittle yellow, dog-eared and worn smooth at the corners. There was no title; no wording graced its cover or spine. But something about the way it pulled at the air spoke of magic.

Riza let out a long breath. "Sir," she warned.

The traveler pried the red book open, leather creaking in protest. "Let's see..." she said. She shuffled through a few pages before she stopped. "Here we are. The last story I ran across. At a tavern down the road, it was. I collected it from a local - I believe he called himself 'Old Man Jenkins'." She smiled up at the group. "A great tale: a legend about an enchanted forest."

The cat began weaving between his master's legs, all the while staring at Roy with its suspicious golden eye. It seemed to be waiting for something.

Roy stared at the cat for a long moment, transfixed by its endless, hypnotic path. Riza released her boot from her stirrup to nudge his calf. Roy blinked and shook his head, only then glancing at the book in the traveler's hands. The pages were completely blank. He frowned. "There's nothing there."

The woman cocked her head. "There isn't?" She glanced down at the page as though seeing it for the first time. "So there isn't! I must not have written it yet. We shall have to remedy that, shan't we?" She held the book on one hand and reached into her pocket to pull out a tiny flask of ink. She uncorked it with a flourish and balanced it on the book with practiced ease. A quill appeared in her hand from seemingly nowhere. "Let's see... how did it start?" The traveler chewed her lip a moment before her eyes lit up. "Ah yes!" She bent her head and began to scribble something over the page. Her pen raced from one side to the other at a near-impossible pace, ink spattering in all directions. A large drop arced up to the tip of her nose, but she didn't seem to notice.

Roy couldn't help it. This strange, familiar traveling woman fascinated him. He stared, dust and grime and discomfort forgotten. He suddenly had to know this story. It seemed terribly important, though he couldn't say why.

Entranced as he was, he didn't notice the odd rustling noise that suddenly erupted from the nearby wood. He didn't notice his horse shift beneath him. He certainly didn't notice the air thickening with magic.

"Uh, Sir?" Breda said, cutting through the reverie. Roy could hear the Lieutenant's horse let out a little whicker.

"Not now," Mustang replied. His eyes never left the scribbling woman and her uncanny, one-eyed cat. Soon she filled the entire sheet with her tidy scrawl. The traveler flipped to the next page with hardly a pause, pen skittering to and fro across the yellowed parchment.

"Sir...?" Havoc's voice sounded higher than usual. "I think..." An odd creaking sound filled the air.

Roy hardly noticed. "In a moment," he said sharply. There was something about that cat...

"Sir!" said Riza. She drew her sword to poke the Colonel in the back. Hard. "Look out!"

Roy just managed to duck before a tree branch swung where his head used to be. "What the -?" He glanced under his arm and gasped.

The trees were alive. They bent and moved with unnatural flexibility. Mustang watched one pull up its roots with a mighty cracking noise, erupting from the earth in a spray of soil. It swayed, lumbering forward like a huge, leafy octopus. A few other trees had already made their way onto the road. Roots crusted with a hundred years' worth of loam scraped and slid over the path. The trees swung their branches in all directions like shaking dogs, lashing out at the companions. Havoc shouted in alarm and sent an arrow flying at the nearest sapling. It hit the wood with a hollow 'thunk' before it began to sink in, devoured inch by inch. It was only a matter of seconds before the arrow disappeared. A heartbeat later, a barbed arrowhead and a handful of feathers popped out from a decidedly mouth-like slit. Havoc swore he heard a burp.

Breda was having similar difficulties. He quickly dismounted his horse, sending it away with a rousing slap on the rump. He hefted his double-bearded axe in two hands, feet planted wide. He sliced the first branch easily enough, but the second one - thicker and made of ash - could not be hewn with a single swing. The blade bit deep in the wood and stuck there. The tree branch swung along its immutable path, wrenching the haft from Breda's hands and taking his axe along with it. "Shit!" he spat. He glanced over to Falman, who stood over Fuery with his halberd. He, too, was just managing to fend off branches as they swung towards his face. The younger man jumped out from behind Falman to launch acorns at the trees with his slingshot. It only seemed to annoy them.

Hawkeye alone held her own. She ducked low in the saddle, somehow managing to find soft spots right where the branches met the trunks. Her sword sunk deep and came out dripping with sap. "Sir!" she shouted, neatly slicing off yet another leafy arm that darted towards her face. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for her commander. "Sir?"

She turned to see Mustang still mounted on his horse, unmoved from where she last left him. He hadn't drawn his sword. He simply sat, staring at the writing woman, oblivious to the storm of trees that marched around him. His horse pawed the ground and whickered nervously.

"Sir!" Riza shrieked. "Snap out of it!"

Mustang twitched but did not look up.

The one-eyed cat skittered over to Mustang's side. It jumped up onto the Colonel's leg, digging its vicious claws into his tall boot to climb up with a quick flick of its tail. Soon it was perched on the pommel of Mustang's saddle. The Colonel stared down at the cat as though he'd never seen anything so fascinating in all his life. His gelding pinned its ears; it, at least, seemed to sense something wasn't right about the situation. The cat's single eye glowed with an unholy light.

The woman with the book finished a line with a flourish. She paused, pen hovering over the page. Just as suddenly, the trees stopped, frozen as though waiting for something. Slowly, incrementally, the traveler looked up from her work. her eyes came to rest on Mustang, who still stared blankly at the cat, mouth slightly agape. A knowing grin spread on her face. Riza was just close enough to hear the woman utter a single word:

"Mew."

The trees came alive again. They crowded around Mustang, fencing him. His horse panicked and bucked. The cat hissed. It crouched - balance upset by the wheeling horse - but managed to keep its place on the pommel. Roy swayed to and fro, hardly bothering to brace himself as his horse worked into a frenzy. Then the cat jumped. Riza was just able to see the feline glom on to Roy's face like some crazed, furry jellyfish before both were lost behind a thick screen of leaves and branches and twigs.

"Colonel!" Riza shrieked. She heeled her horse forward to help him, but pulled up short when another branch darted out like a fist. This time she was less lucky. It caught her shoulder with a sickening 'thwack' and her sword fell from her nerveless hand. "Sir!" she shouted again. Another branch swung toward her like a pendulum, catching her in the stomach. She toppled off the back of her horse and fell to the ground with a loud grunt. The tree loomed over her, bristling with leaves.

"Hawkeye!" An arrow whizzed overhead. It managed to find a weak spot in the bark and sank deeply into the trunk. Sap gushed out, covering Hawkeye with amber goo. She stumbled to her feet before Havoc reached her side. He gripped her uninjured arm and managed to jerk her out of the way before another branch swung close. Riza could feel a few leaves graze her cheek, edges sharp as razor blades.

"C'mon," Havoc said. "We gotta get out of here."

"No!" Hawkeye jerked out of his grasp. "The colonel's in there! We've got to go back!" She made to run forward into the swirling mass of branches before Havoc caught her by the waist with both hands.

"Hawkeye, are you crazy? You - hey!" Havoc shouted as Riza wormed out of grip. She managed to make it a few paces before Havoc caught the back of her belt and drew her back against his chest. Riza jabbed an elbow into his stomach, but he didn't let go. He pinned her arms to her sides, wincing at how hard he had to grip her already-bruised shoulder to keep her under control. "There's no way we'd make it through there alive," Havoc grunted. " We'll figure out a way to get in once things have settled down..."

"No!" Riza was more frantic now. She struggled and squirmed in Havoc's grip, lashing out like a wild thing. "Let go, Havoc!"

By that time, Breda had arrived. "Havoc's right, Hawkeye! We need to get out of here." He turned to slash at another branch that swung too close with his tiny hand axe. "We'll come back for the Colonel later."

"No," Riza moaned, more softly now. She no longer tried to escape Havoc's grip, but her eyes still searched the mass of trees, desperate for any sign...

Havoc shook her gently. "C'mon. We have to get out of here."

With one final - _desperate_ - glance into the foliage, Hawkeye nodded reluctantly. Even she could see the futility of attempting to save Mustang now. Perhaps if they had the Colonel's fire magic, they might stand a chance, but...

Hawkeye's heart clenched as she turned away.

-o-o-o-

They gathered around the campfire, spirits low. Hours of searching for nothing. Mustang was nowhere to be found. The trees quieted nearly an hour after they left, returning to their places, roots delved deep once more. Hawkeye, Havoc, and the others carefully crept back into the forest, warily scanning the treetops for any sign of movement. There was nothing - no sign of Mustang. Every track and footprint had been obliterated by the scrape of roots and a new carpet of fallen leaves. The search became desperate as darkness fell. The only thing they found was Mustang's gelding, reins caught on a low-hanging branch. The animal was unharmed but riderless. Mustang's acid-pocked sword was still strapped to the saddle.

They finally had to give up when the woods became too dark to continue the search. Riza was last to concede. Her arm had been badly injured during the desperate battle with the enchanted forest, but she never once admitted her pain. She stared silently into the darkening wood long after they set up camp (they used fallen branches for the fire lest they offend the now-sleeping trees). It was a long time before she settled into an exhausted sleep, bruised hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword.

Breda was unlucky enough to draw first watch. He sat near the fire, studying the dark contour of Hawkeye's sleeping skins where she lay at the other side of the camp. Deep lines marred the space under her eyes; not even slumber eased the worry from the Lieutenant's face. She tried to hide it from the others, but Breda knew she was frantic to find Mustang. He was shocked when she agreed to settle down for the night. Her injury must be worse than she let on.

Breda sighed. Tomorrow was looking to be another long day. He was exhausted and sore from the tree-battle. The hours spent tromping through the woods didn't help either. He was about to settle down with a book from his pack when he spied something at the edge of the camp. A glowing green orb hovered in the darkness, just out of sight. He knew what it was instantly.

"Not you again," he muttered. It was that damn cat. They found it in the forest earlier in the day. Somehow it had gotten separated from its master. It followed them all afternoon, yowling piteously all the way. Fuery tried to scare it away with his slingshot several times, but the cat easily dodged it. Even more perplexing, the animal managed to look indignant about the whole situation. Falman ended up chasing it from the group by swinging his halberd at it, but it always returned.

Now it slinked into the camp like it owned the place. It stared directly at Breda, its lone eye reflecting the flickering firelight. It mewed, long and low. Breda flicked his hand at it. "Shoo. Go back to that weird book lady."

The cat seemed nonplussed. Its tail twitched and it swung its head to glare at the Lieutenant. Breda frowned right back. He hated cats. So damn haughty. The feline seemed unwilling to budge, so Breda shrugged and reached for his book.

"Breda?" Havoc mumbled, turning over in his bedroll, eyes still closed. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Nah, just that cat."

"Oh." Havoc yawned and opened a single eye to watch the feline slink over to where Hawkeye slept. "Little shit."

Breda nodded. The cat was now sniffing at Riza's face, tail straight as an arrow. "Get away from her, you little monster," he called, waving his hand at the cat, which ignored him (of course). Breda growled. "You're lucky I'm so tired, or I'd show you what for."

Havoc laughed a sleepy laugh. "Yeah, you show 'em, Breda."

"Yeah," Breda said. He paused for a moment, idly thumbing the pages of his book. "God, I hope we find him tomorrow."

"The Colonel? We will," Havoc said with his characteristic, lazy confidence. "Don't worry. He always manages to get himself out of a pinch."

The cat let out a loud mew.

"Shaddap," Breda said. He watched the feline creep closer to Hawkeye. It began to rub its head on her, purring loudly. Something was odd about the way it... Breda stared, eyes widening as realization and recognition dawned in turn. "Uh, Havoc?"

"Wha?" Havoc mumbled, clearly on the edge of sleep.

Breda gasped. The cat was now rubbing its entire body against the sleeping Lieutenant. Vigorously. "Havoc!"

"What?" The blond sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes angrily. "What, Breda?"

"Look at the cat."

"Why the hell -" Havoc stopped when he caught sight of the feline, now comfortably nestled on Riza's -

"He's on her boobs, Havoc."

Havoc gaped for a moment. "You don't think...?"

"I don't think. I know."

"But... how?"

"Who knows? All I know is that is definitely..."

Havoc chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Yep."

Breda sighed shook his head. The cat stared back at him from the little nest he made of Riza's breasts. "Hello, Colonel."

-o-o-o-

Keep your eyes peeled for Part 2!


	5. Mew - Part 2

Part 2. There will be more parts, have no fear.

-o-o-o-

"Well," said Breda, rocking back on the log, hands braced on his knees. "Well."

"That's one way of putting it," Hawkeye bit, watching the cat on the other side of the fire warily, arms crossed protectively over her chest. She was not exactly thrilled to wake up to to a cat nestled where she found it, especially since she soon learned the identity of said feline was none other than her commander.

Havoc leaned over the bow perched on his lap, hand-rolled cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth. "What happened to you Colonel?"

The cat let out a conversational series of mews and yowls. Unfortunately for him, no one in the company spoke cat. Mustang went on for some time, seemingly unaware that nothing he said made any sense, until Havoc cleared his throat with an apologetic smile. The cat-colonel hissed, frustrated at the confused looks on his subordinate's faces. Alphonse might have helped - he had a special way with animals - but they left the Elrich brothers back in Central nearly two weeks ago. Riza could not help smiling at the thought Ed being around for this. Mustang would never live it down.

"Well," said Breda, chewing his cheek thoughtfully. "That's helpful."

Riza sent him a withering glare before fixing her gaze back on the cat. "Enough. We need to figure out how to change him back."

"I dunno," said Havoc, eyes suddenly alight. "I kinda like him this way."

"Havoc -!"

"Yeah," Breda cut in, sharing a look with Havoc that spoke tomes. "No more bravado."

"Or 'necessary stops' at taverns known for its... endowments," Breda chuckled.

"Or furry moth women," Havoc added.

"Or goats."

Both men looked over to Riza, who blushed, suddenly seeming to realize she uttered something aloud. Breda nearly choked on a guffaw and Havoc's face broke into a leer. Even Falman let out a nervous giggle.

"Right you are, Hawkeye. No more goats!" Havoc leaned back to inspect his bowstring with feigned interest. "Guess we're out one commander."

Breda crossed his arms and regarded the cat. "What a shame."

Hawkeye had never seen cat glare before, but she was pretty sure if any cat could do it, Mustang-in-cat could. "Breda..." she warned. "Stop."

Havoc tucked his bow next to the log and strode over the cat, eyes twinkling over his cigarette. He reached down to pat Mustang's head, but the feline ducked out of his reach, hissing and spitting at his lieutenant. "Easy, Colonel," Havoc laughed.

"Boys," Hawkeye said. "Enough. We need to do something about this."

"Alright, alright," Breda said, though he exchanged a brief glance with Havoc that promised future mischief. He also happened to ignore Hawkeye's imploring look. "It seems to me this problem all started when we met that book lady."

"Yeah," said Havoc. "Wonder where we could find her? Do you know, Colonel?" He glanced over at the cat, who had begun grooming his paws with a very rough, very pink tongue. The lieutenant gaped, cigarette balanced precariously on his lower lip. "Uh, Colonel?"

Four pairs of eyes swiveled to the colonel, who continued to lick himself as though it were the most natural thing in the world. It was nearly a minute before Mustang realized what he was doing. He let out a yowl and leaped back, back arched in horror, coughing and gagging on the hair that suddenly seemed to worry his throat. Havoc, Breda, and Hawkeye exchanged concerned looks. Perhaps this was more serious than they thought. Perhaps it wasn't as simple as the colonel's mind transferred to a cat's body. Instead it appeared as though the spell was changing his very nature. Mustang crouched low, mewing pitifully before darting around the fire to leap up onto Riza's lap.

"Easy, Sir," she soothed, running her hands along his side. He felt hot; his tail swished fitfully from side to side. "We'll figure this out."

Havoc returned to his seat and took up his bow again. This time his fingers trembled as his hands skimmed uselessly over the bowstring. All whimsy had left his face. "Maybe I can try to find something tomorrow morning... some tracks. Some kind of trace."

"Sure," Breda said, though doubt clouded his eyes. They searched for hours yesterday, looking for that very thing. They found nothing. "We'll try again tomorrow, Colonel."

Hawkeye nodded. "In the meantime, let's try to get some rest." She ran her hand over the colonel's furry head one final time before easing him to the ground. "Breda? You still up for guard tonight?" She waited for the lieutenant's confirmatory nod before rising from the log. She strode away, brow crinkled in worry. The cat followed at her heels.

"Well, shit," muttered Havoc as his eyes lingered on Hawkeye, now stooped over her bedroll, cat by her side.

"Yep," said Breda. "Tomorrow's another day."

Havoc snorted. "Tomorrow's never just another day when it comes to Mustang."

"Right you are."

Both men frowned, staring into the fire. Havoc just glanced up to see Hawkeye slip under the covers. There was a telling flash of white and black; the cat was using the opportunity to slip in alongside her. Havoc nudged his companion with his bow and waggled his eyebrows. In spite of everything - all the worry and the seriousness of what might happen if they didn't break the spell - both men guffawed when Hawkeye shoved Mustang away with a very indignant "I said no, Colonel!"

The cat's affronted mew rang through the chill night air.

-o-o-o-

They gathered their supplies quickly the following morning, anxious to get an early start. The team was efficient, working without speaking, though it seemed doubly quiet without the grumblings of a usually grumpy colonel. Fuery approached Hawkeye soon after they saddled the horses, shyly holding a makeshift (and perfectly cat-sized) leather satchel altered to work as a saddlebag. Riza smiled her thanks and quickly stepped away from her horse to latch it onto Breda's pommel. She wasn't about to give Mustang another opportunity to rub his head on her thigh. She had enough of that last night.

It was quite another thing to coax the colonel into the bag. He lashed out at whoever tried to pick him up, tail stock-stiff and whipping to and fro. First Havoc tried - he had the most nimble fingers. But even his bowstring-calloused hands suffered the wrath of Mustang's sharp kitty claws. Breda was next to go, convinced the colonel would be swayed by some good, old fashioned logic. But the cat would not hear of it, in spite of Breda's insistence that 'we need to move quickly and you can't ride a horse that way.' It was Hawkeye that finally managed to get Mustang into the bag. She huffed loudly before picking the colonel by the scruff of the neck and shoving him inside. There was very little pomp to the situation. It was downright debasing. Mustang's head soon emerged from the top, fur ruffled, suddenly looking very much his human self.

"Sorry," Hawkeye muttered. "Sir."

Mustang glared, tiny white paws perched on the edge of the satchel. Even Falman had to admit the colonel looked pretty damn cute like that - not that any of the men (and especially not Hawkeye) would dare to say it aloud.

"Let's move out," Riza said. He cheeks blazed pink and she avoided the cat's one-eyed gaze as she heeled her horse forward.

-o-o-o-

It started with a piece of paper. Havoc was first to spot it, waving like an ivory flag from a low slung bush. Paper was a precious commodity outside of Central and to a man (and woman and cat), they knew it had to be related to the mysterious woman who afflicted the colonel with her strange cat magic. Havoc was off his horse and striding toward the breezeblown sheaf in an instant.

"Don't touch it!" Hawkeye clipped. The cat echoed her, hissing long and low, body half out of the satchel that hung at Breda's knee. Riza glanced down at the feline. "Colonel?" She watched silently as he leapt to the ground. Unfortunately his catlike reflexes were woefully unhoned, and Mustang tumbled over his forepaws and onto his furry face before he managed to regain his balance.

"Nice one," said Breda.

Mustang pretended not to hear, instead sauntering over to the loose sheet of paper. He sniffed at it for a moment before looking up at Havoc and nodding, once.

The blond lieutenant gaped for a second before he stooped to pick up the sheaf. "This is so weird," he muttered, smoothing the paper over one knee. The others were already dismounting their horses, crowding round close. In the rush to read the paper, they forgot about the little cat at their feet. Mustang mewed as Fuery's foot nearly crushed him.

"Sorry, Colonel," the young man said. He reached down to pick up the cat. Mustang squirmed for a moment before resigning himself to his fate. He even began to purr when the sergeant scratched a spot behind his ears just so. The others pretended not to notice.

"What does it say?" Breda said.

Havoc shook his head and handed the document over to his friend. "Can't read it."

Hawkeye crowded close, looking over Breda's shoulder as he turned it this way and that. The redhead grunted. "For a lady that claims to write all the time, she sure does have bad handwriting."

"Is that supposed to be a 'd'?" Hawkeye said, pointing to an illegible squiggle.

"Maybe it's a character of some kind - a different language," said Breda.

"Or perhaps a numeric symbol," said Falman.

"I'm pretty sure its just a smudge," said Fuery. The young man studied the page a moment before he began to read, words drawn out at odd places as he made out the letters just in time. "'The... er...man? was... shocked to find a hefty... no, wait... heavy coat of... fat? no, wait... fur... covered his... hmmmm..."

"I think that says breasts," Havoc said, nodding sagely.

"Ya sure?" Havoc said, leaning inches from the paper.

"Pretty sure."

"Nope," Fuery said. "It says 'body.'" He took a deep breath and continued. "'And what he... ounce...no, once called hands were now paws...' Hey! It's about the colonel!"

"Then I'm absolutely sure it was breasts," muttered Breda.

"It's about the colonel?" Riza breathed, crowding closer. She lifted her hand to push the cat's head away before he could rub his face on her arm. "But where's the rest of it? Where's the rest of the story?"

"Try ripping it in half," Havoc suggested. "Maybe that will break the spell."

"No... probably not the best idea, Havoc," Breda said. "Who knows what that would do to Mustang?" Mustang did not seem to like the plan, either. He squirmed in Fuery's hands, mewing and batting anything he could reach with his claws. "See? He agrees."

"Uh, Sirs?" Falman said. He was ignored. It didn't seem to bother him all that much.

"So what to do now?" Breda said.

"Sirs," Falman said, his voice growing serious.

Riza shook her head. "I'm at a loss. We found a page of that damn woman's book and it's done nothing to help us."

"Sirs!"

"What, Falman?" Havoc said. "We're trying to figure something out, mate. Is it really..." His eyes followed the line of Falman's pointed finger. The cigarette fell out of his mouth altogether this time. "Well, I'll be damned." He reached up to poke his blond counterpart. "Uh, Hawkeye?"

"What?" she clipped, eyes still scanning the unreadable document. "What?" she said again as Havoc cuffed her on the shoulder, harder. She looked up and froze. "I'll be damned."

"That's what I said," Havoc whispered. He grunted when Breda jabbed him in the side with an elbow.

Five soldiers and one once-soldier-turned-cat stared across the glen. After all their hours of searching, after everything, the strange traveler stood not forty paces away, nonchalantly ripping page after page out of her book. They fluttered away on the soft wind that whistled between the trees, little floating leaflets lost to the forest. Something large hunched at her side.

"What is she doing?" Breda breathed. "And what is that?" He pointed to the slumped figure across the way. It had an all-too-familiar head of unkempt black hair...

"That, I think, is where the colonel's body went to," said Riza.

-o-o-o-

They decided to steal up to the woman on foot, horses being too conspicuous even under the cover of trees. They left Fuery behind to care for the animals, then started towards her, crouched low. Havoc stole a glance at Hawkeye and saw the seed of worry in her. Whatever happened with this strange traveler, it would not be good. "I'll get her," Havoc murmured. "I'm the fastest." Ignoring Hawkeye's reproachful look, he darted ahead, soft boots hardly making a sound on the dry forest floor.

"Havoc!" Breda hissed. "What are you doing, you - ?" The last word was lost as Havoc slipped in front of a tree, nearing the woman - and the book - with every step. In another half-minute, he'd reached the clearing, arrow cocked and bow drawn to his cheek.

"Hey! You! Lady!"

"Mmm?" the traveler looked up from her book midway through tearing a page. "Yes?" Her eyes were misty and far away. She seemed completely unafraid of the man that held a weapon aimed straight at her face. "You need something?" A dark head peeked from just behind her legs, and Havoc gasped, nearly losing the arrow. It was the colonel. Or rather, the cat in the colonel's body.

"Mew," said the cat-man.

"By the Carnal Star," Havoc whispered. He lowered his bow. "Fuck. Hawkeye's gonna go ape-shiiii-"

"Lieutenant, why did you rush ahead like that?!" Hawkeye puffed, short of breath after her sprint to catch up with the much lankier lieutenant.

Havoc closed his eyes to steel himself before turning back to his now-commander. "Hawkeye, maybe you should just wait 'till I sort this..."

"Let me see," she huffed. "Let me see him." Havoc tried to block her view, but the lieutenant would not have it. She quickly ducked under one of his arms, sword flashing into her hand in an instant. Her face went ice-white at what she saw. She looked either ready to kill or faint dead away, Havoc wasn't sure. The lieutenant glared at the stranger. "What... what have you done to him?"

The woman traveler let out a high, wild laugh. "It's just a story," she said. She reached down to her side to run her fingers over her new pet's head. Cat-in-Mustang closed his eyes contentedly and pushed his face into her hand. "Only thing is, what I write comes true."

"Turn him back!" Hawkeye shouted. She heard a cat yowl behind her. Breda had just arrived, holding the colonel in his arms. The cat stared at his former body, hair rising at the back of his neck.

"S'okay, colonel," Breda soothed. "We'll figure it out."

"Change him back?" the woman said, tapping her mouth with one ink-stained finger. "Oh... hmm. See, I don't do that."

"What do you mean, you 'don't do that'?" Riza grated. "Just write a story about him getting his body back."

The woman let out a sad 'tch' and scratched Cat-in-Mustang's neck. The cat-man purred and rubbed his head on her thigh. Breda was suddenly struck by the irony of the situation: Mustang, crawling about on hands and knees, the pet of some woman. Had it not been so disturbing he might have laughed. The traveler woman cocked her head and smiled at the redhead. She seemed to know his thoughts. "I can't just write it. You see, I have this problem with finishing stories. It's my constant bane."

"What do you mean?" Hawkeye said, trying her best to keep her voice calm.

"Yes," the woman sighed dramatically. "I alway start them so excited. They're wonderful. They're engaging. Everyone wants to read them. Then..." she shrugged. "I get bored."

"Bored?" Hawkeye shrieked. Falman had to hold her back before she went for the woman's throat. Her hand tightened on her sword. "You want some excitement? I'm happy to oblige!"

The traveler laughed again, light and easy as the tinkling of bells - as though a threat was never made. "Besides," she continued. Her eyes lingered on the cat, now perched on Breda's arms; he, too, seemed ready to pounce. "This is one story that someone needs to finish on his own."

"Enough!" Riza said. "I'm tired of riddles. I want answers, you -" Her sword moved quicksilver fast, aiming directly for the woman's throat. The traveler lifted her book at the last minute and the blade glanced off the leather binding as though it were made of steel. She leapt backwards - over Mustang's cat-possessed body - as effortlessly as breathing.

"Two sunrises," the woman said ominously. "That is the time you have to break the spell. It is up to you. Two sunrises, and one has passed already."

"Two?!" said Havoc. He thumbed his bowstring thoughtfully. "That doesn't seem right... Aren't there usually three?"

"What?" said the traveler. Her brows furrowed. "No..." For the first time she looked unsure, as though taken off guard.

"Yeah," said Breda. "I'm pretty sure he's right. There's something written in the magical bylaws. Has to do with triad being the most powerful magic or some shit like that. There's always three days. No matter what."

"No there isn't." The woman's hands kneaded on her book nervously. "There are two. I wrote two."

"Then you wrote it wrong," said Hakweye, stepping closer, sword low in her hands.

"Oi!" said Breda (the cat echoed him with a resounding 'Mew'). "You owe us one more day, lady!"

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I am writing this tale. There are two days. End of story."

"You just said you weren't writing it!"

"Silence!" The woman opened her book like a thick fan, quickly rifling to a page near the end. Another pen appeared in her hand - this one fashioned from the feather of an ostrich. Somehow the audacity of it seemed to fit the situation. She began to scribble, ink spattering this way and that.

"Stop her!" said Hawkeye.

But just as Falman and Havoc started towards her, the woman began to change. It was subtle at first; her nose flattened and the fist that curled around the pen started to deflate. Her skin became more delicate, the tone slowly melting to an unblemished ivory. Everything about her suddenly appeared thin and insubstantial. In an instant, she had wasted away to nothing, as thin as a sheet of -

"Parchment," Hawkeye said, eyes wide as she watched the woman's body begin to flutter in the breeze. "She's turning into parchment."

The traveler looked up at Mustang-turned-cat and smiled a papery smile. "Good luck," she whispered before shattering into a thousand tiny fragments. A sudden gust whistled through the trees, stirring the remnants of her body, casting them about the soldiers feet like so many leaves. A piece flew into Hawkeye's mouth; she sputtered before managing to rip it out in disgust. Soon nothing was left of the traveling woman but a single scrap of paper, caught in an epaulette of Mustang's uniform. The cat-turned-man batted at it as though it were a plaything. He, at least, seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Well," said Havoc, hands on hips and feet planted wide. He cocked his head to study the situation. Mustang sauntered over on hands and feet to sniff at his bow, now lying forgotten on the grass. The cat in Breda's arms refused to look away from his former body, head swaying to and fro. Havoc sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "There's that."

"There's that," Hawkeye said grimly. She eyed the body of the man that once housed her commander and shoved her sword into the ground. "Damn it."


End file.
